


Backfire

by kimtristh



Category: Hannibal (TV), Oz (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, Crossover, I Don't Even Know, M/M, broken puppies bonding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 09:18:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimtristh/pseuds/kimtristh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham gets sent to Emerald City. Hannibal is also a resident of Oz. All the cameos in the universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Backfire

**Author's Note:**

> It's you, it's you, it's all for you ♪

It had been Jack’s idea, and for all the times he had known just what a terribly illogical person the older man was, he wasn’t quite ready for this level of irresponsibility.

"…We tell you when to sleep, when to eat, when to piss. There is no yelling, no fighting, no fucking." the female brunette officer spoke loudly as the rest of the newly transferred inmates squirmed awkwardly in their seats. 

At least they were local, Will thought. His dogs were now hundreds of miles away from him. So was Alana. So was Beverley. It was likely that there were men in this prison that he had helped catch. And, if rumours were true, one of them was Hannibal Lecter.

Will’s sponsor turned out to be nicer than he expected. Lawyer. The kind of killer that wasn’t really a murderer and Will could have wept at the relief that flooded his body when he learnt that he would be sharing a pod with him.

The man looked positively feral, long hair, strange beard, angry eyes - Will wondered if he looked like that himself. The soft, lost and awkward demeanour he once possessed all overruled by the bitter disappointment that came from someone breaking his heart.

‘Breaking his heart,’ that sounded almost pathetic next to the kind of ordeal that Hannibal had put him through, that man had stripped him of everything he once called dear and even after they caught him and processed him as the Chesapeake Ripper, there was no way to prove that he had framed Will, and the sole person who could confess, Hannibal himself, wouldn’t do it because (as he said in one of the many letters Will pretended not to be keeping under his mattress), he was “Hopeful that we now shall be so lucky as to meet again, my dear Will."

It was night when Will finally dared to truly talk to the other man, he had averted his eyes as he usually did and he hadn’t asked him about it so Will appreciated that even though he knew it was probably because Beecher? couldn’t care about anyone anymore.

They were lying on their respective bunks, both evidently awake, staring at the ceiling (Beecher) and at the bed above (Will), both ridiculously conscious of the inevitable night sweats that would come should they decide to shut their eyes. Will’s voice sounded flakey, unsure as he tried to keep it casual, but he was proud of himself because he didn’t stutter as he asked “What’s his name?”

“HA!,” the voice from the upper bunk came with the type of aggression that couldn’t be real, the furious snarl evident in his voice and Will could just see in the eye of his mind that had not lost any of its foreseeing capabilities the bulging eyes of the other man, the balled up fists, the tense veins on his neck as he was undoubtedly preparing to attack him. He could feel the distrust seeping through the mattress above him, the hatred and pain radiating and soaking his own body as he felt what the other man felt. It was not new, he had felt it himself, he knew exactly what that was like – but at least, he had never kissed Hannibal.

Will spoke before the other man was able to find his voice, all unsure and broken as if he was revealing Jack what he had seen as he put himself in the shoes of the killer. “His name is Hannibal, he-he framed me... I-I... he was my friend.”

It was as if the fog of anger that was swimming across the cell stopped in its tracks, everything becoming motionless, silent. The voice of Beecher was much softer when he asked “Hannibal the Cannibal?” 

“Uh-huh,” Will replied, voice small and helpless, nodding his head although Tobias could obviously not see him. 

After a long silence the other man said, “Mine’s called Chris.” He didn’t say anything else, he simply rolled over in his bed and Will knew that they wouldn’t be talking about it for quite a while but it was something. As much as he despised to think of himself as a victim, as much as he hated the notion of ‘group therapy’, he liked to think maybe someone else would understand _him_ for once.


End file.
